


ain't no way (this auld acquaintance'll be forgot)

by Medie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"So," she says. "How's Sam? Still not Antichrist?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	ain't no way (this auld acquaintance'll be forgot)

**Author's Note:**

> general S3 spoilers. Written for the Advent Drabble meme for [](http://quiet-rebel.livejournal.com/profile)[**quiet_rebel**](http://quiet-rebel.livejournal.com/) who wanted Dean/Jo and New Years.

Jo can appreciate irony. It's not like she has a choice. She's looked in a mirror and she knows what people expect of her. A thing for knives and better than a working knowledge of Latin aren't among them.

She's used that, she's had to, and it's worked. A pretty girl with a bright smile can go places most people can't. People trust her. They also patronize her. Hunters patronize her. Jo's learned to avoid most hunters.

Especially Winchesters.

But tonight she's willing to make an exception.

As the flames die down, Jo grins and hitches a hip up on the nightstand. Kicking her foot casually, she leans against the wall and tries not to laugh.

Okay, so she doesn't try very hard, but she tries. She even mostly succeeds. Mostly.

Dean glares up at her. "Not one fucking word, Jo. Not one, you hear me?"

"Mmmhmm, loud and clear," she says, biting the inside of her cheek. "Not one." Reaching out, she flicks a finger along cold steel and her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

She knows Dean's pissed and, worse still, embarrassed. _Really_ embarrassed.

The problem is, Jo just doesn't really care all that much. She stopped caring what Dean, or anybody else, thought about her a long time ago. Right around the time a demon in Sam Winchester's body threw her around like a rag doll and his brother kicked her while she was down. Figuratively, of course.

Oh yeah, Jo can appreciate irony.

"Well, not one word," she grins. "Maybe two. Or three." Or a hell of a lot more than that.

"Oh god," Dean says, groaning. "Can I at least have my pants first?"

Amused, Jo folds her arms and gives his naked body a dismissive glance. She fakes thinking about it, then shrugs. "Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Nobody needs to see _that_."

"Huh, what now?" Dean huffs. "What'd you just say?"

Jo just smiles and says, "I said I agreed with you. Probably should mark your calendar, it's probably never gonna happen again." She looks at the twin piles of ash and bone fragments. Firecrackers against succubi. It's cheap and easy, but then so were they. "Two, Dean? That's gotta be a record." In stupidity, but she's not cruel enough to say it.

Yet anyway.

He flushes. "Well, y'know how it is. Ring in the New Year with a bang."

"Literally," Jo says, sliding off the nightstand. She picks up his pants and dumps them on his legs. "Now, scooch over."

Dean looks incredulous. "Are you _serious_?" he says. "I'm handcuffed to a bed here."

"Also naked," Jo says. "With no key, two dead Succubae, and Dick Clark about to drop the ball on Time's Square." She pushes at him, making room. Plunking herself down, she hunts around for the remote. "Don't suppose you've got snacks here?"

Finding the remote, she turns on the television and drops the remote atop his pants. "Your New Years Eve dates kind of ruined my dinner plans." Take out and a motel room wasn't much of a New Years Eve, but she's breathing and for Jo that's a good night. "Chips maybe?"

Her lips curve into a wicked smirk as Dean's frustration simmers. He's fuming and she's never been more comfortable. She relaxes, leaning her head against him. She's totally twisting the knife, but from Jo's perspective, he's got it coming.

Besides, this is the most fun she's had in weeks. Not since the werewolf with a drug habit.

She watches Dick Clark idly contemplating the man's restorative powers. There's no _way_ a deal with something demonic isn't involved. Maybe that demon chick Sam's been hanging with would know. Jo considers asking Dean, but decides against it. Then she'd have to explain how she knows about Ruby and that's a can of worms she's not in the mood to mess with.

"So," she says. "How's Sam? Still not Antichrist?"

"Nah, but he's hoping," Dean says.

"Well, there's always the next Apocalypse," she says, her stomach rumbling. "God, I wish I'd brought something." She sits up, scratches an itchy spot on her ankle. Okay, so maybe it's a _little_ distracting sitting next to a naked Dean. Just a little. "You could've at least gotten a hotel with a mini bar." She smirks. "It's not like you're paying for it."

"Not the kind of midnight snack that I had in mind," Dean says. He rattles the cuffs and bumps hips with her. "Seriously, Jo, get me the fuck out of these. I'm chafing."

"Your bright idea to use them," she says.

Dean jerks on the handcuffs. "Goddamnit, Jo! Have a heart."

"You're going to keep whining until I get you out of those aren't you?" she asks.

"Yeah," he nods.

"Ruining my New Years Eve?"

He nods again.

Jo rolls her eyes. "_Fine_." Sitting up, she swings a leg over his stomach, sitting. The remote control tumbles to the floor with his pants and she glares at Dean. "Where's the key?"

"Beats the shit out of me," Dean says. "One of them threw it."

"Mm, probably didn't think they'd be needing it." Jo grins. "I hear this species doesn't leave a whole lot left when they're finished."

He grimaces. "Please."

"And you guys thought _I_ couldn't handle hunting," Jo says, laughing. "You try to have a threesome and end up dinner."

"Guess I'm just that talented." Dean grins. He's blushing. "So, you got an idea how to get me out of these? Preferably one that doesn't involve hacksaws."

"What about axes?" Jo asks.

He glares. "Just figure it out."

She sits back and thinks. "Okay," she says. "No hairpins, so we're out." She stops. "Close your eyes." She pulls her arm into her shirt and then stops. Dean's still staring at her. "Seriously, Dean, close your damn eyes."

He smirks again, but closes his eyes. Jo whips her shirt over her head, dumping it on his and then takes off her bra. She never thought she'd be happy for underwire.

"What're you doing?" Dean asks, voice muffled by the shirt.

"Getting you out of the handcuffs," Jo says, putting her bra back on. "Hang on a second." She rises up onto her knees, working the wire into the lock.

"You ever do this before?"

"Yep." Jo grins. "More than you'd think." Dean laughs, his breath warm on her bare belly and she shivers. "What?"

"You don't know what I think," he says.

"Oh, like it's hard to figure that one out." Jo says, rolling her eyes. "Please."

"Excuse me?" Dean rears back, the shirt slipping down. "Ooooooooohmigod," he says.

She stops working. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are your eyes open?"

He hesitates, his breath stuttering on her skin. She's going to kill him. He's _looking_. "Nope," he says.

"_Dean_!" Jo sits back, underwire in hand.

Dean grins. "What?" His eyes drop and she resists the urge to cover herself. She refuses to give him the satisfaction. "You're the one who took your shirt off."

"You're the one who decided to fuck his way into the New Year with a couple of sex demons." Jo holds up the underwire. "You want out of the cuffs or not." She sees the glint in his eye and scowls. "You even _think_ \-- "

"Oh, I'm thinking," he says. "I am so thinking."

"I should've let them kill you," Jo says. She gets up on her knees. "Keep your mouth to yourself and I don't break you, got it?"

"Break me?" Dean says.

She hears the disbelief and jabs him in the chest "Bare assed naked, handcuffed to a bed, at this point? Barney could take you."

"Oh, man, purple dinosaur jokes?" Dean frowns. "That's low."

"Keep it up and I break out Tinkywinky," Jo says. She goes back to work on the handcuffs.

Dean licks her stomach.

"Okay, that's it," she throws the underwire down on the bed. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you?" He twists and throws her off balance. She lands in his lap and realizes he's hard. It's not unimpressive. "That's not a reason," she says.

"Believe me, honey, it is if you let it."

She covers her face with one hand. "How the fuck do you ever get laid?"

He doesn't answer. Not right away. He starts to speak and stops. Then starts again. "Get me out of these cuffs and I'll show you."

Jo looks at him and weighs her options. There was a day she wouldn't have thought twice. She would have thrown herself at him with a lot less of a suggestion. Funny. It's not really that long ago, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity.

She reaches for the clasp of her bra. "I've got a better idea," she says. "You stay _in_ the cuffs and we never speak of this again."


End file.
